Page 1 of His Beauty
CHAPTER 1
Bonnie Oliphant eyed the snow-filled clouds hanging ponderously low on the horizon. “Are you certain your brother will not mind this intrusion?”
“Lyon? No’ at all.” Sitting beside her on the curricle’s bench, the reins held loosely in his fingers, her brother-in-law Lysander, Viscount Blabloblal, lied with a straight face. “He’ll be pleased to see ye.”
She managed not to snort at the falsehood. “So he knows we are coming?”
Lysander shifted on the hard bench, his booted foot knocking into the precious case which contained her manuscript. “He’ll be pleased to see ye,” he repeated.
“Ah.” That answered her question. “So he doesnotknow we are coming. You didnotmention it to him?”
Not that she could blame him.
His brother, Lyon Oliphant, heir to Laird Oliphant, held a far more impressive title: The Beast of the Oliphants. Thesobriquet was based more on his habit of snarling curt orders at people rather than his appearance, but that wasn’t any better truthfully. Bonnie had only seen the man a few times up close during last summer’s house party, and even she—who took no stock in appearances—had been shocked at how horribly the fire had ravaged his face and neck.
Of course, she’d been shocked by a few other things about him as well.
Beside her, Lysander cleared his throat. “He kensI’mcoming for a visit, and I may have told him I was bringing a friend.”
“Ah,” she repeated.
Well, she supposed she should at least be flattered Lysander considered her a friend. After all, he and her sister Tiffany had been instrumental in fulfilling Bonnie’s dream. “I suppose I might even be considered family as well?”
The noise Lysander made was close to the snort she’d been tempted to make earlier. When she glanced at him, he cut her a knowing look before focusing on the road ahead. “I sincerely doubt Lyon considers ye family, Bonnibelle.”
“Bonnie,” she corrected absent-mindedly, wondering what was wrong with her that Lyon wouldn’t wish to claim her as family.
“Bonnie then.” He cleared his throat. “And how goes the publishing business, sister?”
She sighed, remembering a fortnight before, when she’d visited Blabloblal to learn her sister’s good news about thebaby, and how she’d discussed her non-existent business with Lysander then.
“Just about the same as the last time we spoke. I am pleased Mr. Grimm finished off the last of his contracts before selling to me, of course, but that means I have no current clients, and I have not had luck finding more.”
“That is a shame,” he murmured sympathetically.
“I am beginning to suspect that my desire to publish booksforandbywomen might be a silly goal, and I should focus on something simpler in order to pay the rent on the building. At least I own the presses outright, thanks to you and Tiffany, even if they are out-of-date.”
The weight of that debt—given as a gift, but still hanging over her shoulder—reminded Bonnie daily that she had to succeed in the publishing world. If she didn’t, her sister’s good deed would’ve been for nothing.
She was startled from her moping when he nudged her familiarly with his shoulder. When she looked over at him, he shot her a grin. “Ye’ll be fine, Bonnie. After all, ye’re a strong, independent woman, who isnae afraid of working hard and bucking social trends, aye?”
“If I was not,” she said drily, “I would be scandalized at the thought of sitting alone with you in an open carriage where anyone could see us getting up to mischief.”
“Not that there’ll be any hanking or panking. Are ye warm enough?”
Not really, what with those menacing storm clouds, but they were almost to the old Oliphant Castle, so she shrugged. “I will survive. Do not offer to warm me, alright?”
Lysander burst into laughter. “I wouldnae dream of it, my dear lady. Though I care for ye as a sister-in-law and a fellow scholar, I wouldnae risk my wife’s ire, even were we in imminent danger.” He sent her a wink. “But considering the ancestral home of the Oliphants—and Lyon’s current lair—is looming just ahead, we will no’ reach such a dire situation. Soon, we’ll both be warm enough, and ye’ll have access to the history and paintings ye need for yer book.”
Her stomach gave a little flutter at the thought of being so close to her goal. Which, she had to remind herself, was the collection of paintings Lyon Oliphant guarded so jealously, not the man himself. “I do hope I am able to convince him to share them with me.”
Lysander winced as he guided the horses up the slope to the crumbling outer wall of the bailey. “He is no’ inclined to show the oil paintings. But I’ve seen them and can tell ye that Rose Oliphant was one of the best painters the Highlands have ever seen. It’s only a shame she died before her work could reach the renown it deserves.”
“Well, if I am able to convince your brother to share, I will reproduce them in a fine binding and share them with the world. I believe they would be a beautiful complement to my work on the history of the area.”
“Oh, most definitely.” There was no one manning the ancient portcullis—did that thing even still work?—as they drove into the courtyard. “I am excited to finally be able to read yer completed manuscript.”
Fondly, she patted Lysander’s arm. “I will have to dedicate it to you, in thanks for your help finding all the sources. The last of which I hope to find here.”
